


Fallout: SMP

by mellifluouswoole



Series: Fallout Au [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Fallout (Video Games) Setting, Apocalypse, Fluff and Angst, Goodneighbor (Fallout), Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Nuka-World Amusement Park (Fallout)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:09:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellifluouswoole/pseuds/mellifluouswoole
Summary: Tommy was only 16 when he left Vault 75 to join the minutemen.He never thought he'd meet a 15 year old Tubbo with a pet deathclaw, a Minutemen Wilbur, Dream and Badboyhalo, and become one of the most known heroes in the Commonwealth.(Alt Summary: Fallout AU)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Fallout Au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897471
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Fallout: SMP

**Author's Note:**

> Cast List: (so far)
> 
> Tommy - Protagonist. Vault Dweller and Minuteman.  
> Wilbur - exposition character. Minuteman leader.  
> Dream & George - kidnapped Minutemen.  
> Tubbo - animal tamer & gardener (also Minuteman)  
> Technoblade - Bad guy.  
> BadBoyHalo - Doctor & Minuteman.

Born and raised in Vault 75, Tommy spent his days training and practicing to be perfect. Tommy never knew the life before the bombs dropped. Back in the 1960’s during the cold war, vault tec, a company, made vaults to hide in since the threat of nuclear war was impending. These vaults- however, were disgusting experiments that usually ended in death. Vault 75 was one of those. It was to get perfect people, making them strong, beautiful, smart- it was too much for the group of 20 children to do. Tommy was perfect, he was handsome, he was strong and smart- but he wasn’t happy. Spending most nights reading and idolizing those who were perfect. 

Spending his days wishing that he would be a part of the world he wished he could’ve lived in. Pre-Bombed Commonwealth. Everyone dreamt of a world before the bombs, before the failures. Before the vaults- trapped underneath a world unexplored and unknown to Vault Dwellers like him. With blonde hair that was never neatly kept, and blue eyes (and very strong arms that he often trained), he always felt disgusted by the routine, he wanted change- he wanted to leave this empty vault full of useless people and empty praise. 

Tommy didn’t remember much about his vault, he knew he ate slop and beans almost everyday. He knew the routine, wake up at 6 AM, begin to train until 7, eat slop and drink 3 cups of water. Train. Train. Kill. Fight. Life in a vault felt unproductive- and he hated that so much. Adventure he craved more than anything. He had no friends (friendship was weakness in the Vault’s eyes), he only had training. Vault 75 was the epitome of human perfection, they wished for nothing more than perfection and absolute compliance. Tommy was not one to enjoy listening to others.

Tommy remembered the genetic perfection he was forced to align with. He remembered the genetic engineering that fell upon children. The torture, the chaos, the revolution. Tommy was a part of that revolution, the lies that Vault-Tec fed the children were just as bad as raiders. “You’d be heroes once your graduate! You’d help the suffering above!” and Tommy knew that was a lie, he heard the screams of the graduates who weren’t good enough. Tommy heard the sobs of children. Tommy knew that it was just a glorified lie. Tommy didn’t want to believe the truth. That all changed in 2287, when a specific scientist graduate broke out a group of youths. Tommy- he was one of those who ran away. But Vault 75 isn’t even the prologue. This is just the backround of a hero- the beginning of the origin.

After the group was out of the Vault, Tommy separated. Tommy no longer wanted to be a part of this group. Tommy left, to never be seen again, presumed dead by the Vault 75 escapees. Heading south, at least what he thought was south, the radiated wasteland was beautiful. The dark yellow skies, the dead trees. It was more than what he expected from a bombed world. And he loved it. “Oh my god.” Tommy muttered in awe, his blue eyes jumping from one place to another. He saw ghouls, he saw monsters- he saw disgusting corpses littering the street. Morbidly, he turned on his vault boy and played some music from the nearest radio station. ‘Wonderful,’ he thought, ‘this is absolutely morbidly beautiful’ he hummed along to a song he didn’t even know the tune of, his posture relaxed and ignoring the chaos around him. He took a breath in, the taste of metal and blood filling his mouth, as his nose took in the scents that he usually ignored. The muddy smell of flesh and blood and death filled his senses, as screams arose from behind him- someone must’ve died after escaping Vault 75. It was beautiful- in a morbid and disgusting way. Beautiful as in seeing a horror movie for the first time, or running away from home. 

Freedom at last. He was happy like this, at least he thought. He thought he knew the extent of the monsters that roamed the wasteland, he read them from books (he detested reading, but read anyways) He wandered farther, the need for food not a problem (he had packed a backpack full of food and water prior to escaping), but found himself stealing and killing because “Why not?”, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. It was kill or be killed in an anarchist world like his. He was free, but it was unbelievably lonely. No more routine, no more talking to other kids during lunch before getting trouble, no more of the life he knew. He didn’t regret leaving, though. He just wished it was less lonely. As his quiet hums and whispers were the only things he heard (besides roars of monsters and beggars on the street) he couldn’t seem to find anyone else. Was he alone? Was there no towns? No “Settlements”? Only the few occasional camps and people dying on the streets. Perhaps he made a mistake leaving his home. He walked along a dead tree lined street, looking at the clouded sunlight. He felt lonely. As nights passed, able to defend himself with the 16 years of training in Vault 75- with guns he found on the floor (which he called his Vlog Guns for no other reason than Vlog was a cool word), and a few knives.

He hunted mole rats and stole from camps. He was nothing more than a raider, which he heard about from holotapes and diaries. They stole and killed, only caring about themselves. A lone raider. A lonely deserter. That was his name now- he thought it sounded cool. One day, about a week of stealing and killing- he came across a monster that he never thought was one he’d face with his own bare eyes. A wrinkled, grey skinned monster with eyes that sunk in and the mouth that had crinkled lips and hideous teeth, yellow and crooked. He screamed. He’s seen it all, dead bodies of imperfect beings, beggars on the street. But he’s never seen this monster. As the scream he let out warned the other monsters that someone was here, they started to rise from graves, their slow movement still terrifying to Tommy. He ran, each turn having more of this zombies follow him. He went past the trees, looking at gravestones. A graveyard- he somehow ended up in a graveyard! He jumped the low fences, heading into what seemed to be an old city. The dark sky was getting darker, as he felt his adrenaline rush. Sweat filled his eyes, as he opened a door to a still slightly intact building, and closed it, slamming it- the noise echoing through the Commonwealth.

He studied his surroundings, before seeing what seemed to be a lit candle, its thick wax melting onto a counter that seemed to be burnt. This looked like someone’s base, like this was someone’s home. Was someone here? He gained his composure, grabbing his gun and going around the corner. “Put your hands in the a-“ he stopped. Less than half dozen of men, wounded and looking sad around the single candle. People- actual people. Not beggars or the occasional raider. Tommy felt his face turn a bright red, as he saw the people closely.

“Who are you?” asked a specific brunette, standing 6 feet tall (or more), his hair hidden behind a hat and a blue coat that looked like the ones he saw in the books. He seemed around his early 20’s with eyes that begged for mercy and wanted sleep. His eyes told a story, one of needing to grow up too early,

“Er- Tommy.” The blonde replied, hesitant. He kept his guard up, despite wanting to trust the men. 5 of them- 5 men.

The brunette shifted awkwardly, giving his troops the signal to stay calm. “How old are you, Tommy? Why are you here and where did you come from?” the man asked, his voice laced with an accent, not from Boston, but Britain (which he wondered about but didn’t ask).

“I- I’m 16, I come from Vault 75, and I just ran away from those zombies!” he announced, putting his weapons down.

“Wilbur’s the name.” The brunette replied, letting Tommy sit down next to him. “16 you say, and a vault dweller?” Wilbur asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“I reckon’ this kid doesn’t know much about the wasteland- he ain’t even dressed properly! Still in a vault suit- that’ll cause some supicion’ round ‘ere!” a man said, a thick Boston accent making it extremely difficult to understand. “Plus- this kid ain’t even knowin’ about those ghouls! Fuckin’ vault dwellers.” The man said, raising an eyebrow, noticing this guy had a weird white bandanna on his head.

Wilbur glared at the black haired Boston man. “Sapnap- be nice. He’s obviously scared and he doesn’t know about the Commonwealth.” A man said, with a softer voice.

“Alright, Bad- if you say so.” Sapnap responded, before clutching a mask between his fingers.

Tommy noticed the mask, his blue eyes focusing on the smile on it. “What’s that for?” he asked, pointing at the mask.

“It’s from Dream- he got kidnapped on the last mission along with George. Fuckin’ raiders fuckin’ shit up as usual.” Sapnap responded, venom spitting from his chapped lips. “We were tryin’ to rescue those dipshits but ended up losin’ another one of our own in the process. Minutemen ain’t doin’ much anymore.” He said, before lighting a cigarette and taking a drag.

“What’s a Minutemen?” Tommy asked.

“A milita. We are here to help settlements at a minute’s notice. We are basically a group of people wanting to help other people. We were trying to recruit a specific raider, who has been rumored to have killed his own group because they were going too far.” Wilbur said, taking a breath. “Skeppy’s the name- Bad thought that a raider that can take out 12 people without dying is a worthy recruit.” He muttered, sighing. “Turns out that a deathclaw was nearby and took out one of our men before we ran away, only before two of our recruits got taken by raiders.”

“Yeah! And it fuckin’ sucks because Dream n’ George were good!” Sapnap said, his voice deep with anger.

“Watch your language, Sapnap.” Bad replied, before fiddling with the lighter used to light the candle. “We’ve lost so much, we cant lose our dignity.” He said, his eyes starting to water. Wilbur patted Bad on the back, before looking to Tommy.

“How did you survive so long, Tommy? You are a vault dweller, you obviously aren’t used to the wasteland, most Vault Dwellers die within hours.” Wilbur asked, his brown hair frayed and frizzy.

Tommy sighed. “Vault 75 trained children as young as 3 to use guns n’ shit so-“ Tommy shrugged.

“Why don’t you join us, Tommy? We need recruits, and I have the perfect mission for you.” Wilbur said, looking at Bad and Sapnap who nodded in agreement.

“Why the fuck not- have nothing to lose.” Tommy said, being handed an outfit and a gun. A nice gun. One that was better than his 9mm pistol that he had no more ammo for.

Wilbur nodded, before excusing himself to talk to Tommy in private. “You see, Tommy- I have a list of people who I want to recruit…”

Tommy took off his vault suit, as he kept listening. “Hey- what do you guys do besides fight raiders and shit? Do you like? Have anymore info?” Tommy asked, with curious eyes.

“Well we are fighting against the CRP, Commonwealth Repair Program. Those people say that they want to help, and people believe them, and then end up massacred by the CRP once you do one thing they disagree with. Ran by this tyrant named Technoblade or something- people aren’t sure where the CRP went wrong. Said it was after Technoblade took control.” Wilbur explained, looking to Tommy. “Being a Minuteman isn’t easy, you sure you wanna do this?” he asked, as Tommy nodded.

“What’s my first mission, Mr. Wilbur?” Tommy asked, before seeing a piece of folded paper in Wilbur’s hand. Wilbur cleared his throat, before explaining with detail and clarity.

“There’s this boy named Toby- going by the name of Tubbo around here. They hves the ability to tame the wasteland monsters- which is one of a kind talent. They’re said to be a nice kid who helps out farms- perfect for our group, our milita. They have a pet fucking Deathclaw-“

“What the fuck is a Deathclaw?” Tommy asked.

“They’re usually 20 feet long, they are deadly creatures with horns and huge teeth. Deathclaws have these deadly claws, in the name of course, that are very difficult to kill thanks to their hide. Imagine fucking Satan as a walking creature.” Wilbur explained, just talking about them scared the living shit out of him.

“Jesus. How old is this Toby kid?” Tommy asked.

“15, I think. That’s what the farm said. They beat us to a terrible ghoul attack on a farm called Seasburry and demolished the ghouls with their deathclaw and mutant bee thing. Fucking terrifying.” He said, shaking his head. “They ain’t a danger though, we just want him on our side. They’re at Goodneighbor at the moment, at least I think, I was told that they were usually there doing jobs for Caps.”

“The hell is a Cap?” Tommy asked, frustrated. “I don’t know this shit, Wilbur- I survived off of fucking rats and shit.”

“It’s our currency. They’re like bottlecaps, these boys.” Wilbur said, taking out a metal bottlecap.

“And whats Goodneighbor?” he asked again, more questions and more answers it seemed.

“It’s one of the biggest towns.” Sapnap said from a room away. “You have a pip boy, right Tommy?” He said, pointing to Tommy’s Pip Boy. Pip boys, by the way, are these arm bands which Vault Dwellers use. They have built in Maps and Radios and other useful things. “Cant ‘ya just mark the place on Tommy’s pip boy? He ain’t gonna have no escort so he better be careful.” Sapnap sighed. He pronounced Tommy like “Tommaye” which made the blonde boy peeved.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll take the job. As long as I’m getting paid.” Tommy responded, as he was handed 200 caps by Wilbur.

“Whatever you do, Tommy, don’t buy alcohol with this, got it?” Wilbur said, as he marked Goodneighbor on Tommy’s pip boy and pushed Tommy away.

“This sounds sketchy, but fuck it.” Tommy muttered, following the map. He wasn’t far from Goodneighbor, so after 20 minutes of walking, he showed up at the shabby looking slums, feeling his heart beat quickly. Lots of people behind these gates, lots of people. He headed to the gate, before being interrupted by a massive creature, 20 feet tall. On top of it, was a small brunette kid- who was no taller than 5 feet tall.

“Come on! Tabby isn’t going to hurt anyone! I swear on my life!” the kid said, who Tommy assumed was Toby. They wore a yellow hooded cape. The yellow was more brown at this point, with blood and tears at the bottom of it. There were some stripes and what seemed to be a bee face on the hood. On their back there was a backpack with a mutant bee being held by a lead on the zipper.

“This deathclaw is going to die if it comes any closer- I don’t give two shits if this deathclaw is tamed! He’s a fucking deathclaw!” The guard yelled back, as Toby sighed, turning the deathclaw around slowly and petting his ‘Tabby’.

This was the kid he was supposed to recruit? How the fuck did his short kid somehow get this monster to be their friend? And a mutant bee that was just as tall as the kid? This was fucking bonkers, man.

“Oi! Bitch Boy! Shortass!” Tommy was about to spit out another slew of insults before seeing the monster’s face. The brown skin engrained itself into wrinkly scales on top of a mutilated face. The face looked so familiar, like the dinosaurs he learned about in a pre-war book. The dark eyes somehow made the monster even more terrifying, and most of all, it’s teeth were razor sharp and disgusting. How did that kid somehow love that monster?

“Uh, hullo!” Tubbo said. They had a British accent as well. “Uh-“ Tubbo got down his deathclaw, masterfully landing without breaking his legs. “What do you want?” he asked, walking towards Tommy. The deathclaw did not smell as bad as Tommy thought he would.

“Uhm, do you know what a Minuteman is?” Tommy asked, looking at the shorter boy with slight confusion. He was even shorter in person.

“Yeah! I wish I could be those dudes, that’s why I help out small settlements! Because I want to be a minuteman, but its sad- aren’t they like, extinct?” They asked, confused and concerned. “Why are you… asking me this?”

“Well, I’m Tommy. Would you like to be a minuteman, Toby?” he asked, with a friendly-ish smile. It looked forced, but Toby didn’t mind.

“Wait- what? Are you a minuteman? Oh my god! This is the poggest moment in my life holy shit! What’s it like being in the front lines and helping people! What is it like!?” They screamed, their eyes full of excitement and curiosity. “Can I be like, your protégé? Is that the word?”

“Sure.” Tommy said, shaking his head at this kid’s naiveté. “Y’know, I could be trying to murder you or something and you’d just follow. How did you survive out here?”

“Oh, well it’s called having a pet deathclaw! If you try to murder me, my bee and my deathclaw will murder you first!” they said, a smile on their face. It was morbidly innocent, and Tommy hated that.

“Alright, fine. Follow me Tubbo! I’ll let you be my protégé, im totally a real full minuteman!”

“POGCHAMP!” they cried, walking side by side next to his new role model.


End file.
